A Crossing Forward
by BookishGuy
Summary: A coming of age story about a group of teenagers growing up in Kanto. While the canonical characters do not make an appearance in this installment, I do have plans to include them in the future. It is intended to be a long story, so the chapters will be a bit of a slow burn.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A Passing of the Ways

AN: Hello, just a quick bit from me and then I'll be on my way. Throughout this installment, and the hopefully many chapters to follow, I'll be using the mythology of Pokémon extensively. At times I'll play fast and loose with canon, but trust that any deviations are simply plot devices. Thank you, and enjoy.

14 January 2000

The snow was lightly falling on the streets of Pallet. A fine layer of dust covered the gravel roads, each flurry fell silently in the night, illuminated by the fires from each street lamp, an almost supernatural mist followed in its wake with every brush of wind. Resting on their porches were a few elderly citizens, they watched the snow, and tried their best to shoo it away with broomsticks. Above, the sky was overcast, with small patches of darkness poking through. An occasional star would shine its way down. Although it was creeping towards eleven, there were still several lights on throughout the town. Roughly seven of the twelve houses were dimly lit, in two of the houses the silhouettes of families sitting down for a late dinner were present. For the others, the neon light given off by the televisions flickered, the town died and was born again in just a few seconds. All the houses were similar in structure. They had a brick foundation, wood siding and tar roofs, the chimneys were made of brick as well (each one puffed smoke at a steady beat). Rather than having a porch, each house had their doors on ground level, and there were no garages. Pallet was so small that there was no need for cars, moreover, due to how harsh the Winter had been so far, the economy had taken a hit, making cars difficult to buy for most citizens. Pallet, or the Kanto Region in general, is known for its farming and fishing. With a port to the south of the city, Pallet maintained a healthy portion of the fishing community, while also acting as wheat and corn farmers.

As one of the smaller towns in the region, Pallet typically kept to themselves. Apart from fisherman and aspiring professors, the population rarely went above thirty. The city is encased by a large, white wooden fence that is about six feet high. Beyond the fence are trees and failed crop sites. To the east, there is a memorial for the first settlers of the city. It is a bronze plaque with all fourteen names printed on there, the plaque is attached to a marble base which has a small garden at its feet. Once a year, the citizens gather around the memorial and give thanks to their ancestors. Not only were they the first settlers in Pallet, but the region as well. Roughly four hundred years ago there was a drought in a neighboring region, one that lasted for a full decade, and was only broken with the help of a Slowpoke. The people were split, stay in the land they had called home for generations, or move on and try to find something new. A party of one hundred souls decided to head east and look for water in the process.

The expedition made their way through modern day Pewter and Viridian, naming them based off the predominant colors in the city. For Pewter, they noted the dull color the dirt was all around them, the rocks were pale as well. Viridian was a lush forest that stretched several miles, hence the green name.

Due to the elements, lack of food and disease (Kanto carried a different form of Influenza that they were not used to), eighty-six perished, their bodies laid to rest all along the routes they took, their plots marked by rocks that just read their name and the year that they died. Several of the rocks still survive and were declared national landmarks.

Down on the aforementioned port was a group of teenagers meeting on the dock, four in total, they had a radio next to them and were taking turns sliding rocks on the frozen sea.

The first one, Evan, wore a red jacket with his fathers named stitched onto the fabric just below his neck. With a pair of light brown pants that had dry mud stains along with brims, Evan wore a black shirt and had a pair of steel toe boots on. He walked over to a white, industrial bucket the group had and produced a handful of thumb sized rocks from it. Winding up submarine style, he let one rip across the ice, it bounced twice before sliding and went on for nearly fifty feet 'not too bad. Steve, can you find something other than the news? Shits too depressing.'

Evan carried his fathers name, a fact that often-caused frustration when receiving mail or signing up for services. It had been six months since his father had lived with his mother and him. After a painful, albeit quick divorce, Evan Sr. had become lost and began a years long journey across the region. He took with him only the pictures he had of his family, food for two weeks, a sleeping bag and two sets of clothes. He later regretted not packing a tent but given that he was traveling on foot it would have been extremely difficult. Whenever he reached a new town Evan Sr. would be sure to call or write to his family, sending trinkets to them as well. Evan cherished them, putting every Pokéball or rock that was sent back on his windowsill and staying up a few extra hours in the hope that his father might walk through the door. There were no hard feelings between the three of them, though Evan found it difficult to understand how, after twenty-four years, a relationship could crumble. In the end, it wasn't infidelity or abuse, they had just grown annoyed and unhappy with one another. Privately, Evan's mother (Carla), still loves her husband, there is a part of her that always will. However, she would have divorced him again if given the chance.

Steve nodded and began turning the dial, static played alongside the incoherent mesh of commercials and songs. Before the dial had been turned, the radio personality had been reporting on the five-day forecast, before that the topic was about five people had gone missing while exploring Mt. Moon. Finally, he found a station that was playing current hits, all four voiced their approval and carried on with their game.

Although Steve was the youngest of the group, he was sixteen, there was little enjoyment to be had for him. He and his mother had moved to Pallet just last Spring in the hopes of downsizing and living a more affordable life. Only two months prior to their move, Steve's father passed away due to a heart attack. His father, Rick, was an electrician in Vermillion. One afternoon, he answered a call to work on a set of powerlines. Unfortunately, when he was suspended up in the air, he encountered a live wire and it sent waves of high voltage electricity through his veins. According to the coroner, his death was almost instant, which if anything was a small amount of consolation. At the time his mother, Louise, worked as a cashier at the Pokemart. The accident caused half the town to lose power, including her store, so she was unaware that her husband had passed until the sheriff found her keeping the remaining customers in check.

Louise had grown up on a farm, her parents were immigrants from the Orange Isles and brought with them seeds to exotic fruits that were valuable in Kanto. With the knowledge she had from the years spent tending to the crops, Louise felt downsizing and returning to her roots was the best option for her son. Of course, with the cold, any plans she had of this life being prosperous have been put on hold. Many nights were spent wide awake, trying not to think about how little money was left. In recent weeks Louise has been applying for cashier positions as far away as Cerulean, almost thirty miles away. Their nicest possession is a bike that her husband would use to ride from one job to the next, so at least she had a form of transportation. Regardless of what she needed to do, it all came down to the reason she came to Pallet in the first place, whatever would be best for her son, she would do.

Steve now took a handful of rocks and began tossing them, before each throw he needed to brush away his eye length brown hair that never stayed combed. Unlike Evan, Steve was braving the cold, he had on only a yellow t-shirt, with the words 'Forever Still' written in cursive over his chest, a pair of blue jeans and white tennis shoes. He played with each rock before launching them like a Tommy into space. Once the ninth and final rock skidded into the darkness, the four of them sat cross legged on the dock, their clothes now damp from the snow.

Far off, towards the horizon, the island of Cinnabar was outlined against a break in the clouds.

The remaining two figures, Allison and Rebecca, were sisters, four years apart, and the middle of the group. Although they were a few years apart, most mistook them for twins. This mistake stemmed from their hair and eyes being identical. Both had a bright shade of blue for their eyes, though upon closer inspection they reflected pasts far different. For Allison, there was a certain spark that glistened against the Sun, or Moon for that matter. She was innocent. However, Rebecca had eyes that ran deep into her soul, they served as a door to her inner strength and sorrow. Instead of glistening, light seemed to disappear when her iris was stuck, it sank deep into pupil, and seeped into the vitreous. Much like how fish are born blind at the bottom of the sea, her vision is disrupted by her view of the world. The two sisters admired the horizon and wondered out loud what lied beyond their quaint town. Neither had left Pallet, and while they dreamed of escaping the clutches of their hometown, the thought of leaving scared them. On several occasions they made their way to Route 1, a heavily forested path to the north of Pallet which leads to Viridian City, but upon looking at the tall bushes and trees that encase it and knowing that Bug Pokémon inhabit the area (poisonous to be precise), they always walked solemnly back to their house and locked themselves in their room for the night.

Outside the lone window of their room, was the research facility, Oak Laboratory. One of the fantasies they traded back and forth was the thought of getting their first Pokémon, training it, and setting off on a grand adventure. It was nice to dream, and easier to believe the lie than face the truth, but in the end, none of it did them any good.

Time dragged on like a blade, slowing peeling away at the fabric of space, it may have been an hour, or only a few minutes before the silence was broken 'I'm planning on leaving in a few days' Steve said, 'I don't know when I'll be back, but I feel like if I stay in this town another minute, I'll go crazy.'

'I don't mean to sound negative, but where do you plan on going? It's not like you have any money, and your Mom needs you.' Allison replied, turning sideways and working her way to her feet, as she did the ponytail she fashioned for her long, chestnut colored hair came undone

Steve shook off this concern, stating that his mother is a strong woman, and one less mouth to feed is a blessing. He had hopes of finding work a few towns over. Over the radio, there was a commercial for a new church that was opening, and they needed Holy Men. While not ordained, Steve did have experience in the spiritual studies. From grade school through eighth grade, he assisted the local minister after school. There he learned all the stories needed to carry a sermon, and was offered by the church to be ordained, but his aspirations were elsewhere. With that being one of his only qualifications, it was a stretch, but one worth fighting for.

'I've been planning an escape' Rebecca followed, the group sighed and humored her, 'no, really. There is this mansion off on Cinnabar, rumor has it that it holds some of the oldest secrets to Pokémon. My first goal in life was to be a historian, and if I'm ever going to start, it might as well be there.'

'Do you still have those journals, or papers you sent in for publication?' Evan asked as he made his way over to Rebecca, she replied 'yes,' and explained how none had been accepted yet

'We've all been here for so long that it seems impossible to leave. But I think it would be foolish for either of you to go alone.' Allison said as she lovingly placed a hand on her sisters' shoulder, the two felt that connection that only sisters share, and for the briefest of moments, all other worries faded away 'I'll go with Becky, and how about Evan tags along with Steve, at least until he reaches the church.'

'That grand adventure we always talked about?' Rebecca chuckled

'It'll do.' Her sister replied

The four then watched the clouds part for a moment, unveiling a star lit sky, after a few tears were shed and hugs exchanged, they parted ways and headed to their respected homes.

 _Originally Published In: The World, As We Think We Know It_

Humble Beginnings (pg. 24-25)

Rebecca Vans

When studying most topics, literature, cinema or art, there is room for interpretation. A grey area that allows for the writer to view it the way they feel, and while it may not be the creators' intent, the writer is not inherently wrong. Art if the study of feelings, history is the study of facts. For something to be considered a historical event it must be witnessed by at least two people, one to give testimony, and the second to verify it. However, what is the procedure for when the event takes place millions of years ago, long before the first line of evolution began to take place? In this case, the Earth is our witness, and the stories she leaves behind act as the verification. The topic for todays paper is about the numerous creation myths that surround the Pokémon World.

In the beginning…

There are those who believe that Arceus created the entire universe millions of years ago, entire stories have been written about the mythical creature, most notably, _the Original Story_ :

In the beginning, there was only a churning turmoil of chaos.

At the heart of chaos, where all things became one, appeared an Egg.

Having tumbled from the vortex, the Egg gave rise to the Original One.

From itself, two beings the Original One did make.

Time started to spin. Space began to expand.

From itself again, three living things the Original One did make.

The two beings wished, and from them, matter came to be.

The three living things wished, and from them, spirit came to be.

The world created, the Original One took to unyielding sleep...

There is a total of four stories written about Arceus being the creator of the universe, the remaining three spans across the entire world, and with the help of carbon dating we have found that the stones that they were initially etched into predates when the civilizations made first contact with one another. So how did these stories, all with similar themes, come to be. There is the argument that as humans we are conditioned to believe in a higher power, that we were created, and if you come across enough examples of myths there will certainly be similarities, as they are all trying to explain the same thing.

Interestingly, this story contains references to more than just Arceus, in total, there are five other Pokémon spoken of. Traditions states that these are Dialga, who was given control of time. Reported sightings of this Pokémon have existed throughout recorded history. They generally occur at, or around major historical events when the emotional response is at its peak. Dialga has a sister, Palkia. This creature was given power over space and all that inhabits in, and due to the nature of time and space, the siblings often fought. In May of 1922, there was an earthquake that was felt throughout the entire world, loud, demonic like cries could be heard echoing through the ether. Entire towns were leveled, and the sky darkened, dropping the worldwide temperature by four degrees. When silence fell, the skies cleared as well, one of the highest regarded scholars of the time, Dr. Ruth Walker, was able to record the sounds and found that they matched the descriptions of Dialga and Palkia from settlers several thousand years ago.

The remaining three are Azelf, who brings the world the power of will. Second, there is Uxie, who gives the world knowledge. It is from this Pokémon that the Sinnoh Region town gets its name. Finally, there is Mesprit, which offers emotion. These three Pokémon make up what is commonly referred to as, the Lake Guardians, as after their creation they were sent to live in secluded areas around the lakes of the Pokémon World. That is, except for Mesprit, with this Pokémon it can be found guarding the graves of the fallen Pokémon in the Celestial Tower. All three-followed suit with their creator and fell into a deep sleep until they care called for.

There is much debate over whether a sixth Pokémon was created by Arceus. This stems from the belief that an idyllic society cannot exist without a threat looming, no all-powerful being would create a perfect situation for its creations. Consequently, logic states that there is another Pokémon which controls all things that are negative, the dark of the world, or other dimension of it.

Once the work of Arceus was done, it fell into a deep slumber. Many have searched for it, but as of this writing, no evidence of its existence has ever been found.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The following morning, the Sun rose early, shrouded behind the leftover clouds from yesterdays' snowstorm. What little light there was filtered through a dull grey, encasing all the region in a faded yellow. One could be forgiven if they thought the world was an old photograph, aged by time and lack of caring. With the dawning of the new day, the ice riddled streets cracked in disdain. Any sailor will tell of how horrid the sound of cracking ice is, especially around the caps, and that which emanated from Kanto sent chills down the spines of even the most hardened seamen. Matching the ice was the sound of the wind, she blew gently at first, testing the strength of the trees left standing, and what little leaves are left behind. Slowly, her voice became more pronounced, and soon it became a deafening roar. It came in waves, dipping like a valley, the crescendoing to a mountain top. Frost covered windows shook and threatened to split, signs hanging over businesses that still read 'Closed' flapped helplessly, Mother Nature had played her opening move.

Sitting on the floor of his room, unable to sleep, was one fourth of our heroes, Evan. His back was pressed firmly against a blue painted wall, his legs and bottom equally shoved onto the wooden floor. His room was cleaner than usual, it was a parting gift for his mother. There were two dressers that sat in opposite corners of the room, the first was a tall walnut colored dresser that housed his clothes. Along the sides of the dresser were tally marks that he had etched crudely, each one representing one day since his father left home. Resting on the top of the furniture was a small, black and white television. It was one of the few relics that he carried with him from the move. The reception was poor, and whenever there was cloud coverage the odds of receiving a channel above five is very unlikely. Still, he held onto it. By now he had memorized how exactly to maneuver the antennas to capture what signals he could. There were times where the picture would be too grainy to make out, so he could close his eyes and picture the show instead. This helped with his overall memory, thanks to the likes of _Parallel Stories_ , where the showrunners would try and find two people who very similar stories despite highly improbable odds, Evan was able describe in detail many of the cities in Kanto without having visited them. His favorite story from this show concerned two people, a man and a woman. The man, Trenton, was walking down the streets of Saffron one morning on his way to work, along the way he shot through the back of his suit (right above his left shoulder blade) and into his left arm. The bullet left an entry wound on the jacket no bigger than a fingernail. That shooting took place in 1959. Then, thirty-four years later, a woman by the name of Heather was walking down the same street and was shot as well, in the exact same spot on her attire. What made this story even more improbable is that Heather had purchased a jacket from a thrift store a few months ago for her husband, after finding out it didn't fit him she fashioned it to match a skirt she owned. Who was the previous owner? Of course, Trenton. Two people, over thirty years apart, shot in the same exact place. According to reports, the bullet which struck Heather didn't even scratch the fabric surrounding the original hole.

The sister dresser was a long, rectangular one which was more storage than anything else. There were nine drawers in all, and their contents ranged from office supplies, books, board games or loose papers. It was the top of the structure he tended to the most. Evan treated this as a display shelf, and what presided on there changed depending on his mood, for the moment it had drawings he had made over the years, along with small examples of origami. Late last night Evan was thinking about something he had read several years ago. It was a lyric to a song, saying that pictures are artifacts that we leave behind for others to see, it is wrong to keep them for ourselves. Evan hoped that one day the world would see his drawings, Abstract though they were, they told a story that he felt was worth listening to. We are all just stories in the end, from the time we are born until the time we perish, it is merely our job to make it worth retelling.

Next to Evan was his bed, it was simply a mattress with a green sheet covering it, two pillows rested at the foot of the bed with a heavy, blue blanket with the Kanto Army Sigil sown into the fabric. Above him was his window, and the many trinkets his father gave him. In his right hand, supported by his index and thumb, was a business card from the last restaurant his father had dined in. The thought of his rugged father walking into a diner with all his gear was enough to get a chuckle out of Evan. Turning it over a few times, studying the name and blankness of the back, Evan wondered is he would encounter his father along the way. While the thought was pleasant, he pushed it out in favor of starting the day. Without even having to look, Evan reached his arm up behind his head and put the card back in its proper place.

Rising to his feet, Evan walked over to his tall dresser and started going through each drawer until he pieced together an outfit to his satisfaction. His decision to go bold against Mother Nature last night had left his nerves weary of anything other than a thick, wool sweater. Although he has not lived by the sea for very long, it has quickly become apparent how harsher the bite of Winter is when there is a body of water for the wind to blow over. Finally, Evan produced a sweater that was a mesh of black and white colors, he countered with a pair of blue jeans and headed off to wash up for the day.

Meanwhile, Carla was already in the second gear of the day. While her son had spent time reflecting on what could have, and potentially might be, she was doing the same, only this time with a newspaper spread across the kitchen table with the 'Classifieds' section being her point of interest. This was, admittedly, an older and seemingly harder way of searching for a job. The advent of the internet had made searching for positions instantaneous for so many, but her search had come up dry on that route. Instead, she went back to they ways she had been taught as a child, just sitting down with a marker in hand and circling everything that seemed plausible. After just ten minutes of searching, Carla had already found four positions which she was qualified for. By now, her eyes were trained for specific words or qualifications. Those few jobs that required a college degree were ones that she kept an eye out for, but typically they came and went without much success. It took her eight years to complete an Associates of Arts, as with all college students she aspired, and hers was to be the first in her family to ever graduate college. She did, but it nearly bankrupted her. Unwilling to use financial aid, Carla paid for her degree out of pocket. By the time she graduated, her savings account was down to less than a thousand.

Reaching into her back pocket, Carla produced a cigarette and let it sit unlit in her mouth. She pretended to puff occasionally, inhaling all her troubles, and then exhaling them away. However, she was trying her hardest to shake the habit, make believing the closest she ever came. Her blonde hair was tied into a ponytail and was tucked into the back of her shirt. Rarely does Carla let her hair down, but when it does fall, yellow strands reach her neck and curl at the bottom. With a darker shade of brown eyes, Carla was very difficult to read, her complexion shifted between poker face, scowl, and when needed, a PR smile.

Taking the cigarette out and flicking the phantom ashes into an ashtray next to the paper, Carla noticed that her skin had begun to crack and that there was fog coming from her mouth. It did not occur to her to check the fireplace. Without much thought she headed towards the front door, slipped a pair of shoes on and looked to bring in a few logs of firewood.

The inside the house was decorated to look like, what her grandparents would say, is the Old Country. A Johto native, Clara hailed from Olivine City, a town on the eastern side of Johto that much like Pallet, is surrounded by a body of water. Regardless of where she moved the sea called to her, whether she realized it or not. Life in Olivine around the time Clara was growing up was less than desirable. Steel was the cities largest export, so even at a young age she was thrust into the mines to try and harvest the precious metal. As someone who went to school from the morning to afternoon, then clocked in a four-hour shift in the mines, Clara was what the town called, a Night Child. Someone who rarely saw the Sun and did all their work indoors or below ground. Due to this background, the color of all the walls was a dull silver, and the furniture was a mix between brown and black. Hanging from the walls in the living room were pictures of lighthouses, like the one she grew up in the shadow of, and the carpet was a faded green. For the kitchen, she elected to brighten the place up with streaks of red along the backsplash of her countertop, the appliances looked like they were ripped out of a fairy tale set in the 1800s. For a stove, there was a wooden box that was painted black, through a glass window one could see two shelves that were currently occupied by bread pans. Next to the stove was the refrigerator, which looked more like an icebox from the early twentieth century. Lighting the way were florescent bulbs that shone brighter the longer they were on, at first it would be easier to light a candle, but after a few minutes the whole block could be given light.

Gathering the logs and lugging them back into the house, Clara allowed herself a moment to breathe. She took in the sharp Winter air, let it freeze her lungs, then exhaled. Doing this a few times until all her worries were gone. Then, Clara entered the house and proceeded to warm the building, with her presence and with fire.

Elsewhere in town, Heather was preparing for a trip to Viridian City to purchase enough supplies to last until the end of February. The night before she had already decided to take her pet Raticate along for the ride, more for protection than anything else. Most Pokémon would leave her alone as they were too busy trying to stay warm than worry about a human brushing past them. However, there were the occasional Pikachus that always caused havoc around the city. On several occasions there were infestations of them in many of the houses, the creature could be found hiding in the walls of the homes, nibbling on electrical cords, eventually cutting through and wiping out almost all the lights in the town. With her protector already in mind, Heather turned to her closet and produced the puffiest orange coat she had, though she weighed at most, one hundred and forty, sopping wet, this coat made her look twice that size. The coat had a dozen pockets on each side, many were zipped shut, while the button pouches were stuffed with gloves and hats. Her armor consisted of a bomber with faux fur on the inside, she buckled the headpiece together, while it kept her body warm, it made it very difficult to hear her surroundings. The gloves were jet black and had gripping tape on the palm side of each one. Heather then found a pair of boots that reached half-way to her knees, tucking her sweat pants into them. Ready for battle, Heather zipped her coat up, taking one last look at her bright, yellow shirt, reserved only for emergencies and long trips, and summoned her pet from its cage.

'Come here Ticky,' she said in a gentle voice, kneeling before the large metal cage that took up a quarter of her room 'we're going on a walk.'

Inside the cage was a large, purple, plastic hiding area. It rose to four feet off the ground, and was five feet in diameter, from above you could tell it was in the shape of two crescent moons with a bridge between them. The shelter rested on a layer of shredded newspaper that stretched the entire length of the cage, and from the inside of the hidden area, the sound of the papers ruffling could be heard, followed by the appearance of whiskers that were the length of a human's forearm. Heather cooed as her pet started to come out from its shell and took off her right glove and offered her hand for her pet to nibble on. In a sign of affection, Ticky accepted the offer. Walking on all fours, the animal exited the cage and retracted its claws as Heather lead her pet over the hardwood which was the floor. Shortly after receiving Ticky as a gift, it became apparent that it still had bit of wild beast inside, keeping its claws primed for the slightest threat. It was only after three months of training did the animal stop inflicting deep scratches to most objects around it. Stroking Tickys' head, Heather brought him in for a hug. She walked over to her nightstand and produced a leash from its lone drawer, attached to the leash was a collar that had the name and address of Ticky.

After securing the rope and tie around her beloved animal, Heather lead the two of them down one flight of stairs and into the wilderness.

Once the pair exited the house, Mother Natures breath whipped across their faces. Heather used her free arm to shield her face from the fury, while Ticky lowered its head, closed his eyes and began shaking slightly. Without being told, the faithful servant began radiating heat from its body, a bright yellow began to glow from its eyes. It was one of the few attacks that Heather had taught her pet, Sunny Day, or as she would come to call it, Warmth. This was one of the reasons she brought along Ticky, that way he could keep the two of them warm for at least most of the trip.

Wadding through the snow, the two turned down Center Lane, and stared directly at Route 1. Although many times before she had turned and run at the sight of the tall bushes, she knew that returning home was the goal, so there was comfort to be had. Crossing into the snow-covered bushes was difficult, not only was there the obstacle of trudging through the snow and ice laced streets, but there was the challenge of walking through tall layers of grass that were weighed down by several feet of snow. Unlike the streets and sidewalks, the areas where wild Pokémon inhabit are rarely plowed. Generally, any powder that can be pushed is shoved into the tall grass and out of the way for most travelers. After all, how many people think about defying Mother Nature? Thankfully, some of the snow melted when Ticky approached it, the warmth coming from him served a purpose Heather had not foreseen, though she would certainty remember it. With one step in front of the other, she felt her weight sink one, then two and three feet down into the snow. Each motion forward was a task worth giving up on. Nearly halfway through, she crossed her Rubicon, glancing behind her she saw that her tracks were now mostly covered, it would simply be easier to push on. Her eyes started to water, and the skin on her face began to crack, liquid oozed from her nose but quickly froze. Clenching her fists, Heather felt each fingernail pushing back into her hand. After a certain point, the cold no longer freezes you, it burns like the hottest flames in Hell, she was approaching that point. Finally, with the edge of the snow bush in sight, she took a deep breath and grunted as her body fell forward and crashed through the wall of snow. Ticky landed next to her, rubbing his head on the back of her hat, the warmth was somewhat of a direct charge that loosened her body and made her mouth water, groggy, Heather got to her feet and was relieved to see that there was only a light dusting on the path leading to Viridian.

Unfortunately, the stones which marked the edges of the path were covered in snow drifts. As an advantage though, the slight openings to the two feet tall walls that encase Route 1 were clear. Positioned twenty feet between one another, there were five of these walls. They were made of reinforced concrete and were used to keep wild Pokémon from entering Pallet. Although, as stated earlier, there were Pikachu infestations that occurred, they did their job well. Throughout the dry months of the year, professors from Oak Laboratory would walk the length of each wall (about forty feet, stretching from one side of the route to the other), and spray Repellents. This spray would keep weaker Pokémon at bay, it was only when they attacked in large numbers that the Repellents did little. When this occurred, the same professors would use imported, so-called 'Super Repellents,' that stopped even the strongest coup.

Heather had been exposed to the elements for twenty minutes at this point, and she had only made it to the first wall. With Ticky now leading the way, owner and pet went through the first opening, a small vortex of wind almost prevented them from going any further. The wind burned, and her mind felt numb, she had expected this harsh of weather, though that did not mean she was prepared for it. Exhausted, her steps became drags, and her back slouched. Ticky rubbed his fur against her pants, drying them off. Above, the Sun seemed to be toying with them, showing false promises through a thick curtain of grey. The second and third wall happened without incident. It was at this point, Heather could see the building connecting Pallet to Pewter. She knew that getting inside would be her salvation, not only did travelers have to pass through the gates of this building to gain entrance to the next city, there was also the accommodation of overnight boarding.

The process of having to pass through security at the entrance of every city was one of the less popular motions passed by the current president of Kanto, President Mason Whitfield. He served in the Kanto Military for twelve years, four as a soldier and eight as a general. While the regions have avoided a full-scale war for centuries, there are still radical groups in the secluded areas of Kanto and beyond that wreak havoc on society. President Mason was stationed in Fuchsia, he was frequently called off to neighboring towns to halt rebellions. The problem with these radicals is that they could never band together, that is the biggest fear of everyone else in Kanto, their numbers are weak alone, but with groups in almost every city there could be an army overnight if they could only find a leader. Consequently, with the threat of a hostile takeover looming every moment, the people of Kanto must fill out a form whenever they wish to visit another place on the map. They must leave their name, age, address and how long they plan to stay. Any bags are searched and only returned when the patrol deems them to not be a threat. This stipulation was one of the many reasons Heather did not bring a bag with her, it would simply be easier to bring something back from a neighboring town.

With just one more wall to get through, Ticky began to slow down as well, the strain of the cold weather had started to deplete its health, and the extended usage of 'Sunny Day' was wearing him down too.

'Just a little farther buddy, we can make it. Once we're inside the patrol office, it'll be seventy degrees.' Heather said, encouraging Ticky to push on, there was caring in her voice, even though she too felt like giving up

With great difficulty, the two finally reached the patrol office and pushed the door open with all their might.

It had been several months since her last visit, so overwhelming brightness of the room took her by surprise. The building was two stories, with an elevator and staircase leading to the second floor off to her left, it was on this second floor that the boarding was offered. On the right side of the long, rectangular room was a counter entirely white. The stone that the base was made of had been polished and finished with a white acrylic, the ceramic top matched the stone, and to top it all off the floor was ceramic tiling, white as well. Heather thought if this was a trick of some sort, a way to knock potential bad guys off their balance. Or perhaps, it was just a trick on the people who passed through here every day, just a cruel way of torturing their eyes. For, as the florescent light rebounded off the floor, it shone brightly and hit Heather in both eyes. Once again, she used her free hand to protect herself as best she could. At the far end of the room were two guards, (one on either side) in between them were two metal detectors and two x-ray machines as a first line of defense for all bags and packages. Heather walked slowly towards the guard on her right, stopping just short of him as a clipboard was thrust into her chest 'fill this out and place any bags or metal objects you have on the conveyor belt, please. Also, unzip your coat and take off your hat.'

Heather did as she was told, removing her keys and wallet from her pockets, after this was done she took her coat and spread it as wide as she could, then removed her hat and showed that nothing was inside.

Once the guard was satisfied that she was not a threat, he gave her the clear to move along. It was then that Heather asked for a bed, and to use a phone so she may call the nearest Pokémon Center for medicine to be sent for her Raticate.

'You can take the elevator to the next floor, there is another security check up there as well. Just tell them that Erik cleared you. We have a nurse on staff as well, she can take care of your Raticate.' Erik said, motioning with the clipboard where Heather would need to go

She nodded her head and said, 'thank you,' to both guards on duty. Noticing how heavy Ticky was breathing, Heather picked him up with the softest hands imaginable, and carried him upstairs.


End file.
